MRF: The Gritty Reboot Project
by Lus-n-RoxTaketheWorld
Summary: A joint project in which Lustrex and Roxanne(FaxFiction) re-write chapters (and lost chapters) from Maximum Ride: Forever. There will be character development. There will be actual reasons behind things that happen. Character deaths will matter. It will be glorious. (T for now, probably M later for dark themes.)
1. Introduction

**Maximum Ride: Forever - The Gritty Reboot Project  
** **by Lus (Lustrex) and Roxanne (FaxFiction)**

Sometimes, you read a book and it is good and perfect and so satisfying in every single way. And then you run to fanfiction-dot-net because you need to prolong that wonderful, satisfying, good and perfect feeling.

But sometimes, you read a book. Maybe you get into it the first time around. And okay, so some parts are forced, and the characters could have been handled better, but you liked it enough.

Then, you start talking about it. And your conversation is full of should'ves and shouldn't'ves, and your imagination takes off with everything you would have done differently, and then BAM you've rewritten a chapter. Or three.

And then the entire novel spins out in front of you, better and stronger and more satisfying, and you have to _write it._

This is that project.

This is not a novel rewrite. It is a selective retelling. We'll tackle some of the chapters that we wished had turned out differently, and we'll add some content that we think is missing. There will be character development. There will be actual reasons behind things that happen. Character deaths will matter. It will be glorious.

Posted chapters will be out of order, but will always contain a reference so you can figure out where in the actual book it fits. Look for author's notes to explain why we made the choices we did. There is no posting schedule, since both of us are working on bigger projects. It's more of an awesome writing exercise, something to use to scratch a creative itch, that you get to see!

All credit for the original "Maximum Ride: Forever" goes to James Patterson, of course. We're just trying to process the source material.

 **Chapters**

1: Introduction

2: Hidden 27.5 - Scars Deeper than Skin (Nudge cries over her scar and Jonny boosts her confidence)

3: Rewritten 18 - Bare Desperation (Max and Fang's night is actually meaningful)

4: Rewritten 32 - Left Behind (Max leaves Nudge behind with the Aquatics)

5: Extra Content 20 - Angel Watches Total Die

6: Rewritten 3 - Looking for Dylan (opening of the book, rewritten to be _good)_

7: Hidden 93.5 - Dylan's Sacrifice (Horror version of Dylan giving his life for Fang)


	2. 27-point-5 - Scars Deeper Than Skin

**Chapter 27 ½ - Scars Deeper than Skin  
** _Hidden Chapter by FaxFiction_

Nudge fell into a squat on an empty stretch of beach and swiped furiously at her face with both hands. She tried to stop sniffling, but her palms kept coming away covered in a slimy mix of fish scales and her own gross crying. Seeing her hands all dirty, with fish blood under her jagged little nails, made everything feel so much worse.

She fell back to sit on the sand, legs folded awkwardly beneath her. She wondered if she looked as pitiful as she felt.

She thought she'd made the right decision when she stuck with Max. The boys were flying all the way to America with a backpack full of bomb stuff, which didn't seem safe at all, and Angel made her super nervous ever since she started telling people that they were going to die, and maybe she would have actually _wanted_ to go with Fang but he hadn't asked her, he'd just left. Well, mostly he left Max, who was really upset about it, but that meant he left the rest of the flock, too.

So she stuck with Max, because that's what family should do: they should stick together. And Max had taken mostly good care of her so far.

But ever since the world ended, Max was different. It was like her hero complex went bipolar, and half the time she didn't care about anything at all, and the other half, she was so focused on her mission that everyone else got thrown aside like last year's leftovers.

She had actually complained about being abandoned by everybody. Right to Nudge's face. Even though Nudge was the one who chose to stay with her.

Right in that moment, Nudge wanted Max to think she was worth having around more than anything else she'd ever wanted. For Max to see how strong she was, for surviving the end of the world and fighting monsters and eating freaking bugs for breakfast, even though she was only almost-thirteen. But now, she just felt like chopped liver. Chopped liver covered in greasy fish scales, with nasty fish breath and puffy crying eyes.

She sucked in a whimpering, shuddering, soggy breath and put her hands down. Her butt was soaked through from the ashy sand and there were even bits of fish drying across her shirt. It was the only shirt she had. She didn't know when she'd ever get a new one. Probably never.

She pulled her shaking lip into her mouth and scooted over to one of the tide pools. She tried to keep her hands from trembling as she stuck them into the water, watching fish scales float up from her fingers in an oily cloud. She could still taste the sick-sweet tang of raw fish guts on the back of her tongue, too far back to try to scrape it off without making herself puke.

She choked back another sob and screwed up her face into a nasty frown, concentrating on pouring everything _bad_ into the muscles of her dirty face so she'd stop blubbering. She was such a crybaby! She and Max were just doing what they had to do to survive. It wasn't a big deal that she had wolfed down all those dead fish faster than when she tried to eat a bowl of Fruity O's before they turned soggy. It wasn't a big deal that she'd ripped all their fishy heads off and ate their bodies whole, like she was all-vulture instead of part-person. Totally not a big deal. Not even a little bit.

Yeah, _right._

The lukewarm water stilled around her wrists, glittering scales floating like dead beetles at the surface, and the weird red sun hit the water at just the right angle. Nudge gasped at her reflection, her puffy brown eyes widening in horror. There were gross fish guts all over her chin, and scales stuck in her eyebrows and on the side of her button nose and by her ear, and underneath everything, the left side of her face had a really gruesome, shiny red, yellow-scabbed scar. She knew it was there. She knew it was bad. But she hadn't _looked_ at it yet.

She pulled one trembling hand out of the tide-pool, watching through the ripples as her fingers almost came up to touch her face.

She couldn't make herself touch it.

 _I'm ugly,_ she thought, and her face suddenly felt so cold. _I'm ugly, I'm ugly, I'm ugly._

She pulled in another sobbing breath and gave in, hanging her head and letting her tears flow.

Who cared if Max saw? Who cared if these new Gill Guys watched her blubber like a big fat baby? She was only twelve and the world was over and maybe she shouldn't care so much because she'd probably _die_ from a flesh-eating virus or ash inhalation or whatever before she'd ever grow old enough to have anyone she _liked_ want to look at her face all the time and...

"Are you okay?"

Nudge gasped, straightening her spine like a puppet on strings and then coughing her lungs up because she'd choked on her own phlegmy spit.

"Oh, jeez, I'm sorry!"

One of the Gill Guys crept up right next to her, ducking his head to peer into her face. Nudge turned away to cough into her elbow. She hoped her arm would hide her ugly face long enough that he would just _go away._

"Are you crying?" The kid's voice came from right next to her shoulder, close enough to make her feathers ache when they tried to puff up under the nasty crust of ash and salt. She heard the soft scuff of sand and a dull, wet thud as he sat down next to her.

 _Go away go away go away go away go away,_ Nudge chanted in her mind, fighting to catch her breath. She didn't want to look at him. He'd see her nasty scar, _and_ he'd see that she'd been crying hard enough that snot was dripping from her nose. She wiped at her face with one palm, trying desperately to get rid of the stupid sob-fest snot and fighting not to cry harder when she felt the wet sand stick to her skin. She probably had an ash-sand mustache.

"My name's Jonny," the Gill Guy said.

"D'udge," Nudge rasped quietly. She hiccupped.

Jonny laughed. Not a mean laugh, like he was laughing _at_ her, but a friendly one. Like he was just being nice.

"Okay, 'Dudge.' I came to tell you, we're all going inside in a minute. The tide's gonna rise real soon and we need to get into the caves."

Nudge sniffled again, trying to suck all her tears back into her face. "D'okay," she mumbled.

She could feel Jonny watching her. It made her skin prickle. Any minute now, he'd say something, and she was sure it would be mean. No one wanted her here. The Gill Guys made it obvious that they didn't want her and Max around, and Max... Well, Nudge wasn't sure that Max knew who she wanted around and who she didn't, except for Fang, and he was gone.

"You know, the fish goo will come off way better if you scrub with sand, too." She watched Jonny pick up a fistful of sand with one of his greenish, webbed hands and kind of brush it over his arms. "See?"

She turned a little, hiccupping again and digging her fingers into the sand. "Like this?" she asked, rubbing her hands together with the sand in-between like it was the most po-dunkety salt scrub in the world.

"You've got it," Jonny said through a smile. Nudge let herself get a better look at him. He had a nice smile, for a fish mutant. His teeth were kind of pointy, but they were clean and white, and he smiled all the way into his eyes. She let herself smile back. Just a little one, without teeth, but she could feel it reach her eyes, too.

Jonny's expression changed in an instant, jaw dropping and eyes widening. "Whooooooa..."

Nudge's smile vanished faster than the first fish on that tall pile of dead fishes. She wanted to turn inside out, to bury her head in the sand like an ostrich, to do _something_ to make the icky crawly shame in her stomach go away. She looked down at her hands, at the way the ash and sand was all caked in the creases of her fingers. Most of the scales had rubbed off.

"That looks awesome! What did you do to win _that_ badge of courage?"

Nudge stilled, daring to look back at Jonny from the corner of her eye. She could only kind of see him through her crazy mop of hair, but he didn't look disgusted or like he was about to blow chunks or anything.

" _Foughtsomecryenasandgotbit,_ " she mumbled quickly, under her breath and right through her teeth.

"I can't hear you when you're talking to the dirt, you know," Jonny laughed. It was that nice laugh again, the one that made Nudge feel kind of warm inside, instead of even more alone. It made her feel like she could tell Jonny things, and maybe he wouldn't look at her funny after.

"We were in Sydney, like in Australia, and the Cryenas - these big nasty hairless dogs - they were trying to eat us, and I didn't see one so it bit me before I could stop it," she spilled out, gesturing vaguely at her torn face with one hand. Her fingers were trembling again. She watched Jonny carefully, waiting for him to get up and run away with his arms flailing over his head, like one of those Wacky Tunes cartoons.

"That's so cool!" Jonny was grinning again, big and wide. "You fought death face-to-face, and you won!" His smile died a little. "Everyone here who fights death just dies."

"Oh," Nudge said. She wasn't sure what else to say. She'd seen a lot of death, especially for someone who had still been eleven three months before the world ended. It was all bad.

"Well, anyways," Jonny said, shrugging. "That's just the way the shark bites. Every group's got its weak point, right? But you've got something special. You look _strong_." He said that last bit with such conviction that Nudge found herself believing him. She really _wanted_ to believe him.

"You think so?"

"Five hundred percent-so," Jonny effused. "Everyone'll know not to mess with you. The dark beauty with the battle scar. A real femme fatale." He wiggled his eyebrows to punctuate.

Nudge grinned at him that time, a real grin, a hundred-watt grin, the kind that went all the way into her eyes _and_ made the tops and bottoms of her teeth show.

Someone shouted back over by the cavern entrance, over where Nudge had left Max behind after the fish feast, and Jonny craned his head to see. He pushed his glasses into his face again, smiling at Nudge and pushing himself to stand.

"Oh, I almost forgot!" He bounced over to a nearby rock and picked up a black scuba tank, turning to hand it to Nudge and pressing the ventilator into her sandy palm. "You should take this. For the swim to the caverns. Just in case."

Nudge looked up at him to protest, to tell him she'd grown gills in the past year and sure, they freaked her out, but she could still use them - but he was already walking back.

She set the scuba tank carefully next to her, rolling her lips between her teeth and carefully leaning back over the tide pool. She looked different, she decided. The fish scales and ash streaks looked like warrior paint, strong and sharp and regal, like a queen. Her scar dipped wildly across her cheek, right across the rosy part and down to curve in a clawing curl across the end of her chin. And if she squinted, now that she wasn't crying, she could see what Jonny meant. She looked fierce. She looked like someone you didn't wanna mess with.

Something flashed in the tide pool and she focused in on the bottom, gasping with parted lips. She didn't even notice before, but the sand was teeming with life: squishy pink anemones and bright blue and orange little fish, and a peppermint shrimp moving in and out and in and out under one of the polyp-covered rocks.

It was so beautiful that she let herself sit and stare, no thoughts towards the group waiting at the cavern entrance, looking past her reflection with her bright scar and into the weird beauty that decided to camp out in a couple gallons of apocalypse water on a volcanic beach.

She didn't know how long it had been when she heard Max call for her with an edge of panic in her voice. Not long enough, but even so, Nudge shook herself back into reality and jumped to her feet, turning back at the last second to grab the scuba tank. She jogged a little to get back to Max, tank bouncing against her thigh.

Jonny was right. She _was_ strong. She'd survived the world ending! She'd fought death and won! And she was only almost-thirteen.

And Max _needed_ her. Maybe Max didn't know it, or wouldn't admit it, because she was too distracted by their whole family being broken apart, but Nudge knew it. She could be strong for Max, and for herself, and together they'd make the best out of this. They'd learn to eat raw fish _without_ getting gross, and Nudge would get used to her gills, and maybe they'd even find a way to keep their flying muscles in-shape.

Plus, Nudge had already made a new friend. She was good at making friends. Even with mutant Gill Guys. So really, things were already looking up.

* * *

 **COMMENTARY**

 **Nudge's Character Arc**

When the flock splits, Max leads Nudge and Total from Australia back to their ruined island, hoping to find the vaccine for the virus and maybe information about Dr. Martinez and Ella. One of the issues in MRF is that there's so much focus on Max that we miss out on meaningful character development for Nudge.

Good, sweet, almost-thirteen-year-old Nudge, who finds beauty in everything except herself and who wants so badly to be held in high esteem, got half her face ripped off by a Cryena and not _once_ do we ever see her dealing with the wound, the scar, the emotional baggage that comes with that kind of very visible disfigurement. We also don't get a good idea of where she thinks she stands with Max. She calls out a lot of Max's self-centered behavior, but that's it. It doesn't go further than that. Our focus gets pulled right back to Max, and Nudge is left an out-of-character ghost version of herself.

This is frustrating in the first portion of the book because clearly there's a lot going on for Nudge, but we don't get to see it affect her. It's a shallow portrayal of a wonderful character. This becomes a problem when we reach chapter 38, in which Nudge dies, and the only shock we feel is because the death _happened_ when we weren't expecting it. The language itself should build tension leading up to Nudge being overtaken. There should be greater contrast between Nudge feeling safe and Nudge getting the heebie-jeebies. Nudge herself should be more than a virtually expressionless lump. (Potentially save this note for the chapter 38 rewrite.)

This hidden chapter aims to rectify that. Here, we get to see Nudge processing through what's going on. It's also the first time she's seen her scar, and that's jarring. But she's a tough cookie, our little Nudge, and when she unexpectedly makes a friend, she's quick to let him talk sense into her.

 **Jonny's Character Arc**

In MRF, he doesn't have one.

Okay, he's just a side character. Okay, we meet him once and then he dies. Okay, he served his purpose, knocking Max & Nudge out of the sky and then giving Max the means to survive the swim to the caverns. But Jonny - Jonny has the potential to be a _really cool guy,_ and to be built up in a way that makes his death _matter._ It was something that I didn't notice right away, because Jonny's death is one of the first deaths in the book and it was unexpectedly gory and who doesn't get spine-tingling chills when they think too hard about dying while trapped underwater because eels are burrowing into your body? But the longer I read, more deaths stacked up, and soon it was just cheap shock after cheap shock with no meat behind the characters to make anything that happened to them matter.

So part of my goal was to spend a little more time on Jonny. Jonny seems like the kind of guy who'd be willing to make a friend. And Nudge had to get _her_ scuba tank somehow. Jonny doesn't do anything big for Nudge, but he's kind to her, and he encourages her, and she latches onto that like white on rice.

It's meant to be bittersweet, because we know that Jonny's going to die in a hot second. Nudge found a friend in an unlikely place and he's about to get ripped away from her. But for a minute, someone was kind to her, and that's what she needed to suck it up and get rid of her negative self-talk.

 **Total's Character Arc**

In MRF, Total accompanies Max & Nudge to the island. Lustrex and I agree that he's obnoxious literary deadweight, so we gave him a noble death back in Australia. You may get to read about it eventually.

In this chapter, there is no Total.


	3. 18 - Bare Desperation

**Chapter 18 – Bare Desperation**

Rewrite by Lustrex

Italics are actual book for context, changed into present tense.

* * *

" _So, what?" I say scathingly, trying to keep my voice from shaking. "You're just going to run? You think that's less cowardly?"_

 _"Not run," Fang's jaw is set with conviction. "I'm going to do whatever I can with the time I have left to figure out what happened, to find out who's responsible, to stop this thing. I'll go to California, find some of those cleanup crews…"_

 _"You mean you'll go to California to meet up with BikiniBimbo456, or whatever her name is," I spit._

 _It's petty, I admit, but give me a pass, okay? I'm feeling pretty bitter at the moment._

 _"You know that's not it." He walks over to me and tries to take my hands. When I cross my arms, he settles for lifting my chin so I'm forced to look at him. "You know you're it for me. The only one. The forever one."_

 _I'm not willing to budge yet, though these are the most amazing words I've ever heard from him. "Am I?"_

 _Fang sighs. "Maximum Ride, you're the most stubborn person I've ever met, and sometimes it seems like your sole purpose in life is to make mine harder, but I swear, I love you more than I thought I could love anyone or anything."_

" _Then stay," I whisper, clenching my eyes shut just as they start to well up._

 _I feel Fang's hands on the sides of my face, his thumbs wiping away my tears. I feel the heat coming off his body, hear the catch of his breath._

He's scared. He's so terrified of everything in this suddenly foreign and completely unstable world. The death Angel showed him has him shaking, dirty and ripped fingernails digging hard into the back of my head like I can keep him rooted, keep her vision from hurting him, hurting me, hurting all of us.

His mouth catches mine, hard and desperate, fingers moving through my tangled hair and getting stuck in the snarls.

There isn't enough time, there is _never_ enough time and I pull him to me, wishing I could see inside his head, wanting him to tell me so that I can help him.

I kiss him back urgently, pouring everything into it because he needs it, and I need him here, with me. Not off in California, not _dead_ , but right next to me, where we can hold each other together and keep our Flock from splitting into quarters.

I have no idea how to fix this, no clue what to do other than be here and let my helplessness bleed onto my face like wearing my heart on my sleeve. I can't do this without him, I can't watch my family fracture into teeny tiny pieces when the whole rest of the world has already split so unbearably.

Fang's eyes find my face, his dark irises catching every single one of my emotions and he radiates them right back.

"Please," I breathe against his chapped lips, my fingers grasping at his tattered, disgusting sweatshirt, slipping into the holes formed by spitting volcanic fireballs and the claws of Cryenas. "Let me in. Don't hide from me."

He shakes his head and kisses me again, moving to wrap his arms around my middle and I can feel his ribs against my chest, slowly emaciating body eager for food and normality and _me_.

He needs an anchor to stay, and I need a vessel to cling to, so I pull him down onto the ground, the dry leaves crinkling under us. His weight is a temporary reassurance, one I want to make permanent, and I wind myself around him, threading my fingers through his grimy hair and trapping him to me like I can make a difference.

We're both verging on the edge of a breakdown and I know that we need something to solidify ourselves, to feel stable and right and my hands find their way under his clothing to feel the beat of his heart against my palm, rapid and fluttering. His mouth finds the pulse at my neck, just as hurried, just as frantic. We're living and breathing for now, built for this horrible, terrible apocalypse but neither of us wants it, neither of us can breathe when everything is so clogged with ash.

His clothing smells like sulfur and smoke when it peels away, but I can't bring myself to care as long as he's here. His hands pull my grungy clothes from me and he grips me like I'm the last thing left in the world.

His eyes hold the question when the only thing left between us is the vision he won't share with me. This is big, this is something we shouldn't do out in the middle of the woods, surrounded by brambles and the light of the moon.

But I need him and my heart is bursting, so the only thing I can gasp against his lips is "yes."

We find ourselves in each other, primal and instinctual. There's pleasure and pain in our voices, piercing the too silent air around us with faltering breaths and wild pants. Anguish spills from our lips because we're unable to keep the only family we've ever had together in the wake of his imminent death and all of the indecision raging between the six of us. We aren't the inexperienced children that lived in the E-shaped house in Colorado anymore, splattering pancake batter on countertops and t-shirts and laughing until we can't breathe.

Now there's death and misery and the _unknown_ in the billions of human corpses and floating silver fish in polluted ponds and we can't keep it together and it's terrifying. We've become adults sometime between the day we went to pick strawberries and half an hour ago in the crumbling cabin. We've suddenly aged ridiculously and I feel two hundred years old, cracked and pruned, baked-dry by experience. The thought of it builds under my skin like an overinflated balloon, pushing my body apart and it's so close to popping that I can't stand it, can't stand the thought of what will happen when it _does_ explode.

We have to be okay. We have to stick together. But everyone is sifting through my fingertips like sand in an hourglass, and I try not to picture it as the grains of life, of Fang's life, or mine or Angel's or whoever. My family is migrating away from me by thousands of miles and I feel like I'm losing myself, losing my arms and my legs until there's nothing left but the gaping cavity of my chest.

My fingers scrabble for purchase on Fang, who's just as wrapped up in his head as I am, both of us trembling and clutching at everything to keep from drifting away. My brain keeps providing that image of him slashing at the trees in a fury, the switch of a branch clenched tightly in his hands. Now I'm the branch, the thing he can't release, that he needs to grasp in his calloused fingers. He's my only tether and I let him have everything, and take everything he offers me.

"I'm here," I tell him, and his mouth finds my gritty skin, ghosting over every dip and curve and he doesn't let go, doesn't waste the time he feels he has left. It's then that I realize Fang's eyes are squeezed shut and his lashes are wet.

"I'm sorry," he whispers hoarsely.

"It's okay." I pull him closer, holding his face between my palms and when he kisses me again, I taste the salt on his lips. "It's going to be alright."

We unravel completely, trying to quiet one another with mouths and tongues because it's still dangerous. Even when it feels, just for a bit, that we're the only two people to exist, there are still things out that that want to ruin us.

Fang presses his lips to my brow and we don't move for a long time afterwards, not until the air turns arctic with the night. We separate only long enough to pull our clothing back on, and I don't protest when he tugs me right back to him.

I bury my head under his chin and try to find his scent at his neck, but all I can smell is despair. By the time we fall asleep, the only thing I can do is hope my words don't sound like empty promises to his ears.

* * *

Commentary:

So, by honest show of hands, who else didn't know that they'd actually had sex? I looked at the page, rereading it about five times, wondering if JP _really_ just had two fifteen year olds have unprotected sex in the middle of an apocalyptic wasteland. I decided that maybe my decidedly filthy mind was just hoping something concrete had finally happened between the two of them, and I moved on. Until Max kinda-sorta brought it back up, saying something along the lines of "After—last night?"

And then I sighed dramatically, knowing the only way this would end was with a Fax baby and a dead Fang.

I was close.

Anyway, this scene obviously needed rewritten. Because it wasn't descriptive enough, because I had to read it five times, because it didn't feel _desperate_ enough. James Patterson thought he could be vague and that things would be okay, but it really isn't okay to have two fifteen year olds in that kind of situation without the motivations to _be_ in that situation.

They had the motivation, but it didn't make me feel anything other than confusion.

Now, Max isn't quite doing this for the right reasons. She thinks she can make Fang stay, if only she gives him the motivation. She thinks she can solidify them, and she's so terrified of her family breaking apart _again_ that she appeals to her best friend and love of her life to please, just stay.

And like I told Rox, desperation has always driven people to make impulsive decisions. Max and Fang are no different, and they're just as misguided and terrified as the rest of us.


	4. 32 - Left Behind

**Chapter 32 Rewrite – Left Behind (Max Leaves Nudge Behind with the Aquatics)  
** _By Roxanne (FaxFiction), beta'd by Lustrex and KLoves2Read_

 _Prereading: You might wanna check out Hidden Chapter 27.5 (Chapter 2 of the MRF Gritty Reboot Project) first. This is the second of a Nudge-focused trilogy, and Chapter 2 was the first installment._

 _Dialogue taken directly from "Maximum Ride: Forever," which James Patterson wrote, and I did not. All of the narrative is mine._

* * *

 **NUDGE**

She wrenched awake with a gasp, her throat all swollen and scratchy, like she'd swallowed pins and needles. Nudge turned her face into her pillow and coughed as loudly as she dared, in case Max had finally come to bed and Nudge wasn't alone anymore. But when she calmed down enough to peek, to peer around the dark Coral Room with the creepy rows of perfectly-made beds, she saw that there was no one else there. Max hadn't come back yet.

She took a soft, shuddering breath through her nose and pulled her pillow from under her head, curling around it and rolling over to face the wall. Her fingers brushed against the cheesy beach-themed wallpaper, finger pads sticking to the rippling texture of the water-damaged paper. She traced images of seashells and coral fans and clown fish all stacked one on top of another, playing follow-the-leader from the ceiling to the floor. Her outstretched pinky caught against the wide vertical stripe of _actual_ coral, the cold pockmarks and faceted planes worn smooth. Maybe by whoever had slept in Nudge's bed before she got there. The coral was weird next to the wallpaper, but the whole room was like that, stripes of rough natural textures in-between the printed paper, and maybe the coral had always been there, but it was _Pierpont_ so it could have easily been imported. The thought of how pretentious that was made Nudge hate him, just a little.

She immediately felt guilty. She shouldn't let herself be so ungrateful. If Pierpont hadn't built this underground shelter, she and Max wouldn't have anywhere safe to go. They had food. They had beds. There was enough room to stretch their wings. They didn't have it so bad.

At this point, she'd stay here forever if it meant she didn't have to run from Cryenas or look at decomposing, hyper-irradiated dead things or suffocate in the ash-filled sky. And she wasn't alone. She still had Max _._

She stared at the tacky wallpaper and hugged her pillow closer. She didn't want to shut her eyes. Every time she finally fell asleep, she had nightmares. Nasty icky ones with Cryenas trying to eat her face. Her new friend Jonny always rescued her, but then the Cryenas tried to eat him instead. Only they weren't Cryenas anymore, they were slimy, slithery lampreys burrowing into his body while Max just _watched,_ unmoving in a cloud of Jonny's blood until Nudge caught hold of her arm _._ Rizal's voice from dinner was the soundtrack, cold and detached, words spat around a mouthful of raw fish:

 _"They only pick off the less advanced. Want some sashimi?"_

She could still taste vomit on the back of her tongue. She'd leaned over the side of her chair and gotten sick all over the floor, puking up fish guts right in the middle of dinner, with all the Gill Guys staring at her while they chewed. Max got up and left without a word, like she didn't even notice, and had been flying in jerky circles through the tiny atrium ever since.

Nudge stared at the wallpaper clownfish, fingers placed along his stripes, trying not to think about death and dying, or all the shadows filling the empty beds behind her. Finally, sleep took her.

* * *

 _"Nudge."_ The watery whisper cut through the heaviness of sleep, warm and beckoning. She could feel her face sticking to her pillow. When she tried to open her eyes, the lids stick together, swollen from more crying.

"Come on, Nudgelet, let's go."

It was Max, and Nudge sleepily realized that she was finally back from flying. Maybe she could convince Max to crawl into bed with her, front to her back like they used to, so Nudge didn't have to be alone anymore.

She pressed her swollen eyes shut, face against the pillow, waiting for her sleep to recede while Max's voice came into focus. Her sluggish brain tried to pick through Max's words, one by one, until she mumbled out loud, "Go?" The word was all crackly, muffled in her pillow.

Max sat on the mattress next to her and she startled, wings clamping against her back with painfully taut muscles. She relaxed again immediately and rolled onto her back, sagging into the dip from Max's weight, her bare shoulder pressing against Max's over-warm arm as her older sister leaned over her.

"Yeah," Max said, her raw fish breath too close to Nudge's face, her eyes wide with urgency. "We should be gone before the Fish Sticks return from the morning hunt."

Nudge forced herself up on her elbows, finally opening her eyes and focusing on her sister. She was breathing hard, face flushed, wings splayed out behind her to cool. She had been flying, and it was already morning, she'd said. Hadn't she slept at _all_?

And now she was finally back, and Nudge wasn't alone, but Max had that wild look in her eye that made Nudge squirm inside because Max thought she was about to do something great, and probably it would be scary and dangerous.

Nudge felt her stomach drop, empty and cramping from crying and puking up fish. She'd barely slept at all. She was just so _tired._

"You wanna leave?" she asked, trying _so hard_ not to sound completely pathetic and whiny. She swiped at her eyes, picking at the crusty corners so she could see straight. She swallowed against her lurching stomach and resettled on her elbows. "Why?"

The way Max looked at her made her feel so dumb.

"Uh... because we're in mutant-eating-lamprey-infested waters?" Max's eyes flew wide, hands palm-up and gesturing to everything. "Did you see how everyone shrugged off Jonny's death yesterday? Rizal is just another crazy leader in a long, long line of crazy leaders we've dealt with. Do you really need another reason? We can't stay here."

Nudge blinked hard, trying desperately to get Max's crazy plan straight in her head. The Flock split up and they left their _family_ behind to come back, because Max said she needed to. They cheated death just to get inside of this place, pushed through water filled with literal nightmares. Nudge lost her friend Jonny before she'd even learned what he was like, what he was good at, what his favorite color was. And the world outside was even worse.

And Max wanted to leave?

"What do you mean we can't stay?" she asked, sitting up a little more and shuffling back until her wings hit the smooth, wallpapered part of the wall. Max wasn't even looking at her, instead staring blankly down the long row between the empty beds. Indignation rose up inside of Nudge, a cold poison that made her teeth clench hard enough to hurt. "You wanted this! The flock split up, everyone left us because you wanted to come back to this island!"

Max's eyes flew to hers. "I know. But that was before..." She trailed off, eyes flitting across Nudge's face, and Nudge thought for a second that Max was going to be real with her, was going to let her in, was going to give her an actual answer.

But then the honest light snuffed out and Max set her jaw. Leader-Max words spewed from her lips, shutting Nudge out and pushing her away. "That was before we knew the vaccine was wiped out in the tsunami. Now there's no reason for us to stay. I mean, don't you want to know what happened? Don't you want some answers?"

"No!" Nudge shouted, surprising herself when her voice echoed through the room. She wanted to grab Max by the shoulders, to shake sense into her, to make her understand.

She didn't.

"That's why I didn't leave with Angel," she insisted, forcing herself to control her volume. "I know more than I ever wanted to know already, and most of it's terrible." Her hand flew up to her jaw, fingers catching on the crusty scab over her Cryena wound before she could stop herself. It itched so bad. She pulled her hand away again, stuffing it under her thigh, wondering what she could say to make Max slow down.

She could feel before she spoke that her voice would break and she'd sound like a total baby, but she tried anyway. "I'm tired, Max. Tired of flying around hoping for something better. The Aquatics have a good thing going here – rarities like, you know, food and actual beds." Her hand curled into the soft down of her pillow, the thousand-thread-count Egyptian cotton pillowcase, and pulled it into her lap. She couldn't remember the last time she slept in an actual bed. Definitely before the world ended, and definitely not one as nice as this.

She looked Max full in the face, willing Max to take her seriously. "These kids are survivors, just like us, and we're lucky they made us welcome."

Max snorted. "These kids are not like us. These kids are sociopaths."

 _Jonny wasn't,_ she wanted to say. _Without Jonny's air tanks, neither of us would even be_ alive _right now._ Instead, she shrugged, muttering, "Maybe their culture is just uncomplicated."

"Staying here won't help you forget about the past," Max said, her words dripping with pity. It made Nudge feel two inches tall.

"And leaving won't help you change it," she spat. Max's eyes went cold again, pulling back. All at once, the plan to leave felt imminent, and Nudge was suddenly desperate to keep Max here, with her. "The world _ended_ , Max, and I promise, nobody blames you for not being able to save it. You don't have to go."

Nudge watched it happen, and it was awful. She watched it change Max's face, watched her expression fall flat in a trick she'd learned from Fang, and Nudge knew that she was really going to _leave,_ to satisfy her weird thirst for chasing death _._

Nudge didn't want to be alone, but she also didn't want to swim through underwater death tunnels again, just to find more death on the other side.

And Max... Max had barely given Nudge a second glance since the Cryena attack. She'd whined, _out loud,_ that she had to finish her mission alone. 'There's no one left,' she'd moaned, and Nudge had been sitting _right there._

With a sinking, muddy feeling that made her nose start to run, Nudge realized that Max wanted to go more than she wanted to stay together. And Nudge... well, maybe she wanted food and the chance to make friends more than she wanted to play the invisible, expendable sidekick to her sister with a hero-complex.

Max stood up, taking a step back, running her hand through her hair like this decision was so hard for her. But Nudge could tell. She'd already decided. "I need to know the truth. I didn't before. But now I think... I think truth is better than relative safety."

 _That's it,_ Nudge thought. Max didn't care about staying safe. She didn't care about surviving. She didn't care about keeping Nudge safe anymore, and that was the worst thing, because Nudge didn't even really know when it had changed, but she realized that keeping the flock _safe_ hadn't been Max's top priority for a long, long time. She hugged her pillow closer, curling around it, eyes finding a friendly clownfish in the wallpaper across the room.

Max's voice sounded dead. "So—you're going to stay here."

Nudge just nodded, but inside her heart was breaking, opening into a big black hole and sucking her soul inside. She hoped she was making the right choice.

She didn't look at Max. Her face would only confirm it—that she was going to leave Nudge behind.

Instead, she flopped forward on the bed, bending over the side and fishing around underneath. She came up with a fistful of thick cotton, a sweatshirt she'd found in one of the supply bins pushed against the far wall of the Coral Room. She'd picked it because it was purple, and extra-soft inside, and didn't have holes in it. Maybe Max would remember her by it when things got hard.

She levied herself back up on the bed with one arm, blood rushing from being upside down. She held the sweatshirt out to Max. "Here. Rizal said the temperatures are dropping—they can sense the extra oxygen in the water."

Max stared at it blankly for two awful seconds before turning away. "It's okay. I don't need—"

Nudge couldn't help the monster roll of her eyes. She jerked her hand, whapping Max on the thigh with the arms of the sweatshirt. "I know. You don't need help from anyone. I'm trying to give you a farewell gift. Just take it, okay?"

Max turned back around, the smallest of smiles curling at the edges of her lips. "My Nudgelet."

The way she leaned forward, pressing her chapped lips into Nudge's hair and kissing her hard, made Nudge feel like such a _baby._ "You take extra good care of yourself, hear? If I come back and find you dead, I personally will haul you out of the grave and kill you again."

Nudge tried to force a smile, some sort of watery grimace, but Max wasn't even looking at her anymore. She'd already started walking away. She didn't even hug her goodbye. Nudge whispered after her, "You take care, too, Max."

And she was alone.

* * *

 **Author's Note:** So basically, Nudge during Max Ride: Forever broke my heart. Multiple times. And I wanted to rewrite all her things, because she has so much potential and then JP wrote her off in the first quarter of the book with no character development and no, "Gee, I miss that kid" thoughts from Max, and I hated that. So this rewritten Chapter 32 is the second of a trilogy of chapters that I'm writing from Nudge's POV.

The first was Hidden Chapter 27.5, when she and Max have just been introduced to the Aquatics/Gill Guys. You can read that in MRF:Gritty Reboot Project's Chapter 2. It involves some character building for Jonny while Nudge comes to terms with her Cryena wounds, and it's heartbreaking and you should read it and let me know you what you think!

This second Nudge chapter is a rewrite of Chapter 32 in MRF, where Max wakes her up from dead sleep to tell her they have to pick up and leave again, on Max's whim. In MRF, it's written from Max's POV (most things are), so Max gets to be the misunderstood hero of her own world, fighting for truth and justice, etc. The chapter ends with Max leaving Nudge (and Total) behind without a second thought, already steeling herself against tackling the post-apocalyptic world all on her own. But from Nudge's perspective, everything is terrible, and sad. Her sister is leaving her. She'll be all alone.

And just like in Hidden Chapter 27.5/MRF:GRP Chapter 2, there is no Total. Lustrex and I decided to give him a different fate. It's noble, and makes more sense than having literary dead weight to cart around in the form of an obnoxious, over-dramatic talking pooch. You'll see our idea of what his story could have been soon, since it's already half-way written.

Oh, and THANK YOU to everyone who's taken the time to review!

 **The UltimateFangirl2020, kamicrazy, MissMintCoffeeMocha, Nola96, Katiebug2000x, KLoves2Read** , you guys are fantastic, thank you!

This is a "in our spare time" project for the both of us. While we were supercharged about it a couple of months ago when the book had just come out, our passion for the project has lessened dramatically since then, so the chapters are coming slowly. But it's always encouraging to see that you guys are enjoying what we're doing, and there _are_ more chapters yet to come.

 **Another Note: I updated 'Chapter 1' (the Introduction) to include a chapter listing, since we're jumping all around in the book and everything will be out of order. Fingers crossed we remember to keep it updated!**


	5. 20-ish - Angel Watches Total Die

**Chapter 20-ish - Angel Watches Total Die**

 _Extra Material by Roxanne_

 _(MR:F setting: Max and Fang slept together, Fang ditched, it's the next morning and Total has just died after another vicious Cryena attack.)_

His little black body, fur all matted with blood and Cryena spit, stopped moving. No breath. No heartbeat. That was when she _really_ lost it.

"Total!" she sobbed, voice thick with snot, face flushed and making her watery blue eyes look morning star bright as she hovered over her dead friend. We needed to bury him, before the Cryenas came back.

I hooked my elbows around Angel's from behind and tugged her away, her sweaty little body thrashing back against mine.

"Total," she cried, the word pulled apart into five syllables by chattering teeth and snotty tears. I couldn't remember the last time she sounded so _young,_ like she was actually just seven years old.

She _was_ just seven years old.

"Total!" she shrieked anew, ear-splittingly ragged and tear-sodden. She bent her whole body in half over my arm and twisted, going for my bicep with her teeth. I ripped my arm away before she could get me, falling on my ass with her struggling in my lap, wrapping my other arm tighter around her stomach and holding her face at bay. Her sticky cheek squished against my palm, teeth still gnashing, her tears gumming up my fingers, as she shrieked and cried and writhed against me.

I should be comforting her. My baby. My little Angel. Her puppy dog just died. _One of our family_ just died. Maybe he was an obnoxious pain in my ass, but he had lived with us for the better part of two years, fought Erasers with us, bravely chomped his little doggy teeth at danger, even when it was twelve times his size. Now he was gone. That meant something, didn't it? That was supposed to mean something?

I should have been choked up. Why the hell couldn't I get choked up? _Who are you kidding, Max?_ I knew why. Maybe it was ugly, maybe it made me a heartless bitch, but I couldn't get myself to care about anything else. Those words he'd whispered through his furry muzzle, right before the pain registered in his eyes and his breathing got all funny and Angel's meltdown started. I don't even know if anyone else heard what he said. But I did.

"Fang left."

Again.

Fang _left me_ again.

I had woken up outside with leaves stuck to my bare arms, damp with morning dew, shivering and cold and alone. We finally took it to the next level, to _the_ level, and I was sure I'd convinced him to stay. Not to leave me again.

I was such a moron.

Eventually, Angel's sobbing quieted. Her little body was still wracked with tremors every few seconds, but her wailing had become wet sniffling against my shoulder. I held her tighter, maybe to comfort her but mostly because Fang was gone. He'd _touched_ me, done things with me that I'd barely dreamed about before, but he was gone and dammit I just needed someone to _touch me_ still because not being touched felt like a big black hole about to swallow me down. I didn't want to go there yet. I didn't want to go there, _ever._ Fang was such an ass-

Angel pulled back abruptly, stopping me mid-pity fest. She slipped from my lap, pulling herself up from the floor by the corner of the counter on shaky foal legs. She wouldn't look at me. Instead, she looked at Total's still form, crying-bright eyes turning cold, and rubbed down her face with both hands.

The dirt streaks her fingers left in the tear tracks looked kind of like war paint.

"I'm going to Russia," she said.

* * *

 **Author's Note:**

Here's the note I gave to Lustrex when I wrote this baby, back in June 2015: "This one's rough and quick and dirty, but that's the point, yeah? I was going for Angel's seven-year-old reaction to her puppy dying, mixed with Max just finding out that Fang was gone again, and topped by Angel ready for Russia; will write the author's note thingy later, and probably also Total with the Cryenas, unless you get sudden inspiration and would like to do that part."

I know you all haven't heard from me in quite a while. I got busy, and I stopped writing, and I kept following stories by the authors I made friends with (Lustrex! M! Jay!), but I haven't even been reviewing. But there are still stories stuck inside of me, Max Ride stories that itch underneath my skin. I went to scratch that itch, and found a couple more chapters for the MRF Gritty Reboot Project that I've roughed out.

I think they're pretty alright.

So I'm giving them to you. Hope you all are staying safe during this crazy stormy weather! I'm in Florida, but on the drier side of the state this time around.


	6. 3 - Looking for Dylan

**3 - Looking for Dylan**

 _Rewrite by Roxanne_

Acid rain stings like a bitch.

It's even worse when you're fighting not to cry, too.

I was the only one still standing by the cliff's edge. The rest of my flock had retreated from the rain of acid and ash into a thin crevasse with barely enough room for the six of us.

Let alone if Dylan came back and we had seven again.

"Dylan!" I shrieked, heart pounding. I saw something! I squinted through the muddy sky, focusing on something big...something dark...something flying towards us-

The hunk of volcanic rock slammed into a cliff, shattering into a billion pieces. I set my jaw and started pacing angrily, back and forth, watching for big brown wings to appear.

I felt Nudge come up behind me. She was taller now, almost as tall as Fang, and tall enough that she had to bend down when she wrapped her arms around my waist and dug her chin into my shoulder to stop me in my tracks. We were all weirdly tall and thin, but the way she'd shot up so quickly made me want to forget all about meteors with possible radioactive elements. Or all the mutated carcasses that had washed up on our beach since the tsunamis came. They weren't engineered mutants, like us. They were grotesque fish with bulging cell deposits all over their bodies. They were sea birds with charred flesh and no eyes. There was even an ape once, with patchy, tangled hair and a tongue the size of its fist.

Fang said it was an orangutan. _Was._

"C'mon, Max," Nudge said softly. "He won't come back now, not when it's like this outside. He's probably found another cave or something to take shelter in until the rain calms down and he can come find us."

"You don't know that," I shot back, choking on ash.

Thing is, though, she was probably right. We all knew the rules. The only reason we were still alive and together at all was because we always looked after the group first. Anyone who went out on their own understood they were taking a big risk.

But see, Dylan was different. Dylan had that pesky genetic predisposition towards _me_ over anything, or any _one_ , else. It was easy to believe that he would make the stupid decision to try flying through this literal hellfire to get back to us.

It _terrified_ me. I'd never felt anything as strong as the need to find him, _right now._ It was like I knew, supernaturally, that he'd die if I didn't.

My breathing was picking up and all at once, every single bump and scrape from outrunning the lava flow started throbbing, like this great big chorus of 'ow.' The goose egg-sized lump on my forehead was my crowning glory, but then there were the bubbling burns across my arms and legs. My singed feathers. I was pretty beat up.

 _But not too beat up to fly,_ I thought desperately, shaking out my wings and ignoring the sting of the rain against my tired flesh. If anyone could do it, it was me. I could get through it with my hyper speed. I could.

I scanned the horizon again, ignoring the fact that I couldn't see the part where the ground met the sky anymore. I took two big steps towards the cliff, preparing to throw myself off.

"Oh, no you don't."

I turned and glared at Angel. My bipolar little seven year old stood, skinny arms crossed, with long, ashen strings of pale blonde hair plastered to her face. It made her icy blue eyes stand out like they were lit from inside.

"You don't get to decide this, Angel. Go back to the cave, with the others."

"Not without you," she said coolly.

"I mean it, Angel," I snarled, turning on my heels and taking that last step towards the cliff's edge. I didn't look down. I didn't need to squint through the heavy rain and smoke just to see the lava flow creeping closer.

"Fang!" Angel called from behind me, not moving.

My muscles coiled, I bent my knees, and I jumped hard. But I saw his dark shadow from the corner of my eye and suddenly I wasn't flying, I was falling, tumbling down a short slope to a narrow outcropping three yards below.

"No!" I screeched, bucking and writhing with everything I had, trying to get him _off!_

"Max, just stop!" Fang yelled, right in my face, so I punched him.

He reeled back and I flipped, scrabbling out from under him towards the edge of the outcropping. He dove onto my back and pebbles clattered over the edge, disappearing into the inky stew below.

I tried throwing my head back, but he ducked and wrapped his arms around me. I tried kicking, but his knees locked tightly around my thighs. Immobilizing me. I was so angry I could have spat fire.

I screamed, high and piercing, and devolved into a sobbing, coughing, hacking fit. Fang let up and I threw my hands under me, rocking back onto my knees and coughing until brown, ash-filled mucous fell from my lips. I shuddered, blinking away tears. Nothing that came from my body was supposed to look like _that_.

"Max," Fang said at my ear, softer now. His hand came up to rub soothing circles between my shoulder blades. I wondered if Angel was still at the cliff edge, watching this pitiful de-evolution of mine.

"Our family," I croaked, and had to stop to cough again. "We can't split up again. We can't."

Fang pursed his lips and sat by me, quietly. He waited for my frantic coughing to die down before speaking again, "He's a smart guy, Max. Nudge is right, he's probably holed up in some cave right now. He'll show up in the morning."

I sat back on my heels and ended up leaning against Fang's chest. I turned my face into his shoulder and shuddered, trying to calm myself down. He was saying almost exactly what Nudge had said before, but somehow it sounded different coming out of his lips.

Six months ago, this little scene wouldn't have happened. Six months ago, Fang and I were split up and Dylan was trying his hardest to convince me that he was the one for me. Six months ago, Fang might have wondered if I would have been this torn up if he was the one missing, instead of Dylan.

Six months had changed a lot.

After another minute, I nodded weakly and Fang moved to stand, pulling me up with him into a suffocating bear hug. I pressed my forehead beneath his chin and just breathed, trying to detect the warm spicy sent of _Fang_ , but there was only dirt and sweat and ash. "Okay. Okay, let's go back. But we're not leaving the island until Dylan comes back," I said with conviction.

"Sure, Max," Fang said. I tried not to think about how he didn't sound too sure as he crawled back up the slope. Back up to the rest of my family.

 _The rest of the flock is safe,_ I reminded myself. _They're safe and I need to protect them, too._

Still, I didn't stop myself from turning and looking one last time out into the volcanic storm. My stomach twisted painfully. It was getting so much worse, so fast.

I let Fang guide me inside our little shelter. I admit, I breathed a little easier, seeing Iggy and Gazzy safe in the cave, and Nudge and Angel talking quietly to themselves a little further back. And Fang was right beside me, placing stones as tightly as he could over the entrance to keep the rest of us safe for just a little longer.

I sat next to him, half watching him work and half watching the rain pelt the earth. It was already disintegrating the surface, eroding crumbling bowls into the dark stone.

 _God, I hope Dylan is safe._

* * *

 **Author's Note:** I hammered this chapter out during a brief period of thinking Lustrex and I would _actually_ rewrite the entire MR:F book.

Hah.

At the time, I hated this chapter. (This one, that I wrote). I thought it felt forced and bland, and didn't add anything new, which was the whole point of the MRFGR project. But, coming across it again now, I think I like it. A lot, actually. Maybe it still doesn't add enough newness to the original novel, but it's been almost two years since I read the original so honestly I don't remember anymore. All I know is, this has the right _feel_ to it. Max feels like Max. Angel feels like Angel. I hope I've been able to dig a little deeper into the characterization, because honestly there is so little in MR:F that it is not hard to do much better.

Anyway, I am posting it here, for posterity. Please enjoy.


	7. 93-point-5 - Dylan's Sacrifice

**93.5 - Dylan's Sacrifice (Horror Version)**

 _Hidden Chapter/Reimagining by Roxanne_

 **Setting:** Alternate retelling of the second half of the final chapter (chapter 93) in Maximum Ride: Forever

 **Premise:** When Dylan offers it to her, Max agrees that she wants Fang alive, however she can have him. Dylan pushes Max out of the room instead of letting her watch and performs his mad-scientist self-electrification maneuver, results TBD.

 **POV:** Intentionally vague, until it's not

* * *

His sharp intake of breath slashed through the silence. His lungs were cracking, they were stone, they were on fire, they _hurt_ and he could barely push the first breath away so he could take a second.

His eyes were glued shut.

His fingers were cold, so cold, but his heart galloped in his chest.

Galloped like a stampede of elephants wearing army boots.

Blood rushed through his limbs, muscles cramping and warming and burning hot, and all he could think was this:

 _I'm not dead._

 _I'm not dead._

 _I'm not dead._

He was _supposed_ to be dead. He knew it was coming, and he had accepted it.

He could even remember the moment everything shorted out.

He'd expected it.

His second breath was a massive, gasping, gusty wheeze through his swollen esophagus. His vision exploded, flashes of light blotting out the room around him and then popping into nothingness.

There was a cable, still crackling with electricity, balanced on his chest. He scraped it off clumsily, arm swinging to the side, and his hand dangled in empty air. It felt alien at the end of his arm. His fingers, too long for his body. Everything felt too long. Was that what almost-dying did to a person? Stretched them out until they snapped back into life?

White fabric was draped across his torso. How did he end up under these covers?

How did he end up on this bed?

His third breath was wobbly, but measured. The ice in his lungs had almost thawed. He was starting to feel incredibly dizzy. He dragged the covers off his body and sat up, everything aching. He pitched forward, off the bed.

 _Max,_ he thought. _I need to find Max. It didn't work. I need-_

His bare foot landed on something firm, something with some give. It was warm.

Bare feet? Hadn't he been wearing shoes?

He looked down.

He saw the body.

Curly queues of black smoke lazily rose from crushed brown feathers, filling the lab with an oily, gamy, meaty smell. Pale hair, frosted across a burned scalp, shimmered in the dim underground light. A bloated tongue filled a slack-jawed mouth. Piercing blue eyes stared sightlessly at the wall.

 _His_ eyes.

Dylan bent in half around his stomach and wretched, dry-heaving until bitter yellow dribbled from his mouth and slimed across the limp hand at his feet. He stumbled backward into an instrument cart, metal clattering like a cotillion of cymbals, and pivoted at the waist until he was braced over it. Eyes pinched shut. Breathing hard. Coughing on his sick.

When he finally dared to look, his reflection in the polished steel stared back at him with fury he'd never known.

With black eyes.

* * *

 **Author's Note:** I might be misremembering, but I think I've got it right, that this was the chapter that started it all. MR:F was so deeply unsatisfying that my imagination wanted to grab it and strangle it until something better resulted, and this was what came out. I shared it with Lustrex, we got excited about the possibilities, and we had a couple of months of insane brainstorming. Some of the concepts we came up with, you can see published in this story. We have other concepts, but this is the last unpublished chapter that we have written up. I'd like to say there might be more to come, but I think that's unlikely.

Stay safe, keep writing, and let your imagination run wild.

-Rox


End file.
